Legacies
by Skye Phoenix Dove
Summary: The story of some brave, misunderstood nations, and their past. How did such young, happy nation beings come to have these odd characters? And is Veneziano being serious about his supposedly naïve self? Told in the perspective of Norway, and everyone is incredibly OOC. Includes manipulative!Veneziano, brotherly!Romano and confident!Canada. Rated T because I'm paranoid.
1. Chapter 1

**Whoa! Okay, okay, I know what you're thinking. Yes, I really shouldn't be starting a new fanfiction but... I can guarantee that this one will be going on for awhile. I hope. Maybe. I probably shouldn't go about making promises like that...**

 **I seem to always get more inspired around my exams. I am a horrible student. Well, I guess this can count as studying for my English exams...**

 **So, about this story. It doesn't make any sense at all, historically. Like, AT ALL. For example, Japan is going to be discovered** ** _after_** **Canada and America have a war against each other. Yes, I messed up the timelines, big time. If you want to, you could just imagine them more as some random immortal beings... but that probably won't work.**

 **It is also** ** _incredibly_** **OOC.** ** _Very_** **incredibly OOC. Keep in mind that, this is supposed to be a story of how their attitudes came to be.**

 **I vaguely know what happens in this story, and how it ends, and so on. If only I can find the patience and time to actually write it, finger crossed! If everything goes on like I imagine it to, Japan will show up later. As well as Hong Kong, Liechtenstein, Switzerland, and Lithuania. This is going with the assumption that the majority of the nations are teenagers or younger.**

 **And... that's all. I'm prompted by reviewers. There's no specific amount of reviews needed, but they do boost my morale and encourage me to update faster.**

 **My last warning is... please, keep in mind that I am known to disappear off the face of the earth with no forewarning.**

* * *

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia - Axis Powers.**

* * *

 **Norway's Story**

It was dark.

It was cold.

I had lost.

* * *

When the cell doors opened, I was scared.

Why wouldn't I be? I had lost. I was a prisoner here. I had no idea what would happen to me.

The entire cell was dark, I could barely see the slight shine of silver on the blades as they swiped down on me.

I winced, bracing myself for the pain, but it never came.

I stared in shock at the figure before me as the chains on my wrists clattered to the floor.

I flinched as silver came down on me once more, then the chains on my ankles were gone too.

Whoever it was made it silently to the door. A sliver of light from outside caught his face as he turned back to look at me, golden irises flashing. "Well? Come on."

Light-headed and star-struck, I managed to get up and follow him. Yes, he was a complete stranger, but I didn't really have much of a choice considering my condition.

It was probably midday out there, as the sun was unbearably bright. Prone to winter as I was, plus being locked up in pitch darkness for who-knows-how-long, it felt like the light itself was searing into my skin.

I probably should've called out, maybe asked that mysterious person to wait for me, that would've been the most logical thing to do, right? But logic was not a common characteristic of mine, unfortunately.

The world began spinning. It was blurry to begin with.

I usually write about the world turning black in my folk tales, but on this occasion the world seemed to turn white.

Leaning myself against the wall, I tried my best to stay conscious.

I couldn't see much of anything, my eyes couldn't focus. My mind was going blank.

There was pain. I still hadn't healed from the war. It hurt, it hurt a lot, and I couldn't even tell where it was coming from.

I tried to say something, but my voice didn't work.

My legs gave out. My hand slipped from the wall and my vision quavered. Further away, the blurry figure turned back to look at me, but he didn't do anything.

My world turned white.

* * *

My name is Norway. It's short for Norway. I am the anthropomorphic personification of that particular Nordic peninsula country beside the North Sea.

I am the mature one among the Nordics. The leader. The sober. The responsible one.

I wasn't always like this. Emotionless, I mean. Unreadable, responsible, reliable, unwavering, indifferent, infinitely patient.

I was once naïve.

I was once easily read.

That is how I was back then.

Even after the war, when I was hurt. When I had lost. When I was locked up, defeated, alone.

I was still naïve. Still easily read.

I'm not anymore.

* * *

When I opened my eyes, I thought I might've been dreaming. This was because the entire room was white. I must've laid there staring at the ceiling for ages before coming to this conclusion.

I didn't know where I was, but there was a small window on the wall a little away to the right of my white single bed.

Propping myself up, trying to see the rest of the room, I caught sight of something very strange on the wall opposite my bed.

It was an all-too-familiar flag — red with a white-accented deep blue cross spread offside over it.

My flag.

Then, I noticed another one. It was on the wall behind my bed, slightly to the left. I didn't notice it until I turned to stop gaping at my own flag on the wall and saw it.

Three colours; green, white, red. Somehow, I felt that there was a particular significance about that flag that I really ought to remember.

I gasped and scrambled away when the realization hit me, and literally fell off the other side of the bed.

My finger scrabbled at the windowsill. It took far too much energy than normal to pull myself up.

Staring out at the large flag high above the city, my suspicions were confirmed.

The words on the flag kept waving, taunting me.

Impero Italia.

* * *

I'm no Italian linguist, but even a fool of a country understands that Impero means Empire.

Every country and colony in this age had heard about Italy. He was the grandson of the famed Roman Empire, the strongest yet conqueror ever to be known (even if he never discovered any lands of his own).

I've been a colony before, Sweden and Denmark repeatedly fought over me, and none too gently. I didn't like it. I didn't want to become like that again. My viking colony days were awful and harsh, I was neglected and modern-deprived, mostly isolated aside from war affairs for years.

Honestly, I pretty much freaked out when I found out I was on Italian land.

I turned and tried to run, but a sudden pain shot through my heart and I fell to the ground. Panic raised above the pain slightly. I began to worry about what might be happening to my land to make me feel like that. Of course, I didn't have a capital yet, so the damage had to be pretty bad to affect me there…

The door at the other end of the room was opening, but I could barely even breathe.

There was a gasp, and the door seemed to close. I'm pretty sure I was screaming. Back then, I wasn't used to pain at all. Tears were streaming down my cheeks.

Somehow, I ended up back on the bed again, while someone slowly fed me what I thought was water. "Okay, it's okay. Breathe. Stop crying, it's not that bad. It's okay."

I tried to do as I was told, while he gently prised my fingers away from where they were tightly clutching the fabric over my heart. My vision began to swim into focus, and I began to see who was leaning over me.

He looked about my age, physically, and if the prominent curl on the right side of his head was anything to go by, he was probably a country.

But aside from his chocolate-brown hair, were the familiar pair of bright golden eyes. It finally dawned on me that this was the one who took me from my dark cell.

"You're Italy." I realized, almost bolting right then and there until another pain jolted through me and I cried out.

"Shh," he told me soothingly, pushing me back down again and bringing the cup to my lips once more. "Calm down. Drink."

I obliged, although I still felt worried about being here on Italian land.

Eventually he lowered the cup away from me, and I could see the smirk on his face as he moved off to put the cup away on the table. "You're too trusting," he said with a light shake of his head.

I blushed red. Fear crept over me as I realized it hadn't tasted like water — not one bit.

He walked back over to me, and I couldn't think of any other response. "Y-you're Italy." I repeated. Well, stammered, more like.

He smiled softly, thought his eyes closed a little more so that I couldn't quite understand his expression.

I flinched a bit as he sat down on the bed next to me (None of us Nordics are particularly fond of foreign close contact). "Everyone always assumes I'm trying to invade them once I say yes to that," he said with a small chuckle.

I froze as his hand tangled into my hair, playing with it.

Maybe it was a mistake, I probably should have kept quiet, but I immediately blurted out, "What do you want?"

Italy laughed softly again. "Straight to the point, aren't you?"

"I'm a viking," I stated, even though this wasn't exactly true anymore, "I've never yet met anyone who was nice without wanting anything in return, so what is it?"

I was relieved to feel his hand leave my hair and managed to turn a little so I could actually see him. He had a warm smile on his face, as if he was my long-lost brother or something.

Before I could think any further though, Italy answered me, and I didn't particularly like his answer.

"Quite frankly, your magic," he told me.

My heart dropped to my stomach. "Not happening, now let me go."

He laughed softly, that kind of laugh that would be comforting in some situations but in this case was just terrifying.

Many people had tried to force my magic out of me before. I didn't like to think about that. Cruel and painful ways had been used on me too often.

I was also beginning to suspect that Italy was more powerful than he looked, he might do much worse and, if possible, actually succeed.

He came and sat back down next to me on the bed. "Besides the fact that I am quite sure you misunderstand me, you're in no position to go about leaving this place anytime soon."

I didn't dare to move. His hand was in my hair again, and going dangerously close to my curl, which was never a good thing.

"The war hurt you more than you think, you know," he told me matter-of-factly, "If I 'let you go', you wouldn't be able to get three blocks before having another spasm like the one you just experienced."

I closed my eyes as he continued to tease my hair around. "B-but I don't want to stay here." I whimpered. I didn't mean to, but I hadn't really been thinking straight for the past few days (or more, I'm honestly still not sure how long I had been in that cell or passed out here).

His tone changed, perhaps becoming a bit sympathetic. "Of course you would fear dominance, being hurt so badly under Denmark and Sweden's rule," he mused, "But then, unless you're going to trust one of them to take care of you properly until you're better…" he trailed off expectantly.

I couldn't bring myself to answer, but the look on my face must've given it away.

"I thought not," he said, sounding amused, "You're quite lousy at hiding your emotions, you know, I can read you like an open book." He trailed one finger down my cheek. "That's your weakness."

Denmark and Sweden were my brothers, but I wouldn't go as far act actually trusting them. They had always been rough with us.

Italy stopped tormenting my hair and pulled me upright. I stared into his suddenly serious golden eyes.

"You've heard about the Seven Years War, I assume?" he asked. My confusion must've shown because he then went on to explain, "France and England got Canada and America to fight against each other for complete control, and Canada lost."

I nodded slowly, still rather confused, wondering why he was telling me this. I'd heard rumours about a war between Canada and America sometime when I was a colony, but not much else.

"Well, you see, Canada and America…" he hesitated but went on, "Well, they were only children when that happened, they still are. And when America showed up at his doorstep with this little gun pointed at him, Canada refused to fight. To be honest, I don't think either of them really understood what was going on."

He paused to look at me, as if checking that I was actually listening, which of course I was. "England was egging him on from the sidelines, and France just kept yelling for Canada to fight back, but he didn't. And when he lost, he ran away from them."

I guess he could read what I was thinking again because he allowed himself a faint smile at me. "He was scared, like you. He realized he couldn't trust his blood family… so I took him in."

My find was spinning. I wasn't exactly sure what he was trying to imply. So Canada was his colony now? Was he trying to say that I was too? Or maybe that he wouldn't really hurt me? That I couldn't trust my blood family after all? I barely did anymore.

He snapped his finger, and I was quickly jerked back into reality, hoping meekly that I hadn't been asked a question while I was daydreaming.

Golden eyes bore into mine. "Here's where you come in," he paused for a second. I nodded to show I was still listening. "Canada has powers, just like England and the rest of the United Kingdoms. He needs someone to teach him, but obviously I can't risk the other countries finding out, especially those directly involved with England. Now, I'm an elementalist at best. You, on the other hand," he cupped my face in his hands, "You're quite the little expert, aren't you?"

Despite the action, I couldn't meet his eyes. "I-I don't know how good I'll be at teaching and I h-haven't really—"

I gasped. Somehow, he had managed to touch my curl. Lightly, but still enough for me to go red and instantly shut up.

"I think you'll do well," he whispered. His tone calmed me somehow. "I'm not going to force you or anything, if you don't want to then you could just wait until you heal then leave."

He brushed my fringe aside from my face, but of course it just fell back again, it was really getting too long.

"But maybe as a favour to me, anko?" he asked hopefully.

That caught me off-guard, him calling me anko. Even then, I was still being forced to call Denmark anko.

"Okay," I said quietly, "Just… don't call me anko."

He smiled that kind smile. "If that's what you wish."

* * *

He stood up and picked up the cup from the table. "Don't call me Italy, there are three of us after all. Call me Vena, it's short for Veneziano."

I just stared at him for a while, not really processing that. "I'm Norway, it's short for Norway."

He leaned over and pulled my hair back. This time, it stayed. "I know."


	2. Chapter 2

**Updating! It's only going to be my last day of exams tomorrow, but somehow I managed to throw this together! I hope you like it…**

 ** **Most people have deferred from canon to say that Norway wants Iceland to call him big bror instead of onii-chan or anko. I understand, it does make more sense, but we're just going to assume that those words are in Norweigian or something for this story, 'cause I like onii-chan better than big bror.****

 ** **And yes, I've also got an OC here. You'll meet her soon. She's not exactly a minor character, but I hope you won't mind there being a non-canon character in this story.****

* * *

 ** **Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia - Axis Powers.****

* * *

 **I didn't really have a choice. I was weak, hurt, and completely dependant on them. I wasn't sure whether Italy —Vene— would really honour his promise. I didn't know if he would really just let me go once I healed, and if he would really allow me to heal at all here, if I had said no.**

 **Even so, I hadn't really been thinking when I agreed. As I said, Vena had caught me off-guard by calling me anko.**

 **A part of me noted that I did owe him, after all, he had gotten me out of that dark cell. And he had treated me relatively better than any of my brothers had in the years I had known them (save for possibly Iceland since he was the only one that never teased my curl before).**

 **Then again, Vena could've healed me. I didn't know it at that point, but he could've healed me with a single touch. That was one of his special powers as the Heir of Rome. He didn't, though, he let me heal slowly and painfully so as to keep me vulnerable and dependant on them.**

 **I didn't know this, though, I didn't realize this until much, much later.**

* * *

 **Vena didn't start me on teaching Canada straightaway.**

 **He said I had to heal a bit more. His siblings were the ones that brought food and water most of the time.**

 **That was what he meant by there being three Italies. He had a slightly older brother, Romano, who looked a lot like him aside from having darker hair, brown eyes, and a different curl. He didn't talk a whole lot, but he wasn't half-bad. Romano represented South Italy, so I suppose Vena must've represented North Italy.**

 **Bianca was their younger sister, Central Italy. She was a nice little girl, maybe nine or ten years old. Bianca bore a stronger relationship to Romano in looks than she did with Vene, though her long hair was pretty much black.**

 **I didn't leave my room for those good few days, but neither did I feel trapped. The window was left unlocked, and as far as I know, so was the door. I didn't feel free, exactly, but I can't say I had a bad start of my stay there.**

 **Vena came in a few times. He didn't scare me like he did on that first day, maybe because it was already confirmed that I was staying.**

 **Perhaps it was because of this that made me all the more comfortable there, and less afraid of being on Italian land.**

 **I subconsciously noted that having three Italies of course made their nation even stronger, having three times the invulnerability.**

 **It was nice there. Eventually though, I lost interest in daydreaming like I was usually able to do for hours on, and began to long for something to do. And that was coincidentally when Vena decided that I would start teaching Canada soon.**

* * *

 **I admit, I was nervous. Even back home, I had a short temper when it came to teaching people, and that was with my little brother, Iceland, whom I actually like.**

 **When the time came, I was sitting with my legs over the side of my bed clutching a thin stack of Norwegian magic in one arm. After briefly looking through their collection of British sorcery books, I had asked Vena if he had anything closer to my native land, and he had somehow been able to provide me with volumes that seemed like they could be my private editions.**

 **The door opened, and a young boy who couldn't have been more than eight approached cautiously. I blinked. He didn't look like what I expected. I had begun to think of him as some twisted cross between what I remembered of France and England, and he was, in a sense, but the resemblance wasn't great.**

 **He had blond hair, the large round eyes were there too, as was the slightly upturned button nose, but that was where the similarities ended.**

 **His hair was more honey-blond than their canary-blond. Like mine, I noted.**

 **He had violet eyes. That was his most striking feature. Bright, beautiful violet eyes. They looked like small glassed pools of intricate potion. Pure, crystalline innocence that neither mine nor Iceland's indigo orbs had every projected.**

 **"H-hi," he stammered. I realized I might've been gawking, but even so I couldn't stop because his voice was so childish… Iceland had never been like that. I'd never heard anything like that before.**

 **"Oh, hi!" I suddenly blurted, realizing that my silence was making him uncomfortable. "Uh, Canada, right?" I asked, purely because I couldn't think of anything different to say.**

 **"Yeah, you're Norway?" he asked curiously.**

 **I nodded, setting the books down on the bedspread. "I'll be staying here awhile to teach you magic."**

 **Canada had been staring rather intently at me. Now, he asked, "Can I call you onii-chan?"**

 **That threw me off. Nearly frozen with shock, I stared at the boy's round curious eyes and stammered, "Uh, s-sure."**

 **He squealed in delight, and threw his arms around my neck, young eyes shining with happiness to match the joyful grin spread across his face.**

 **I froze, not used to the casual touch.**

 **Iceland never did that. Iceland never showed that much affection.**

 **Staring down at the kid hugging me, so innocent and sincere, I slowly wrapped my arms around him too.**

 **Canada snuggled into me. "Onii-chan," he repeated happily.**

 **Needless to say I really couldn't hate him after that.**

* * *

 **Lessons with Canada started out smoothly then, sort of. The kid was probably going to make my brain overload from extreme cuteness. You'd think that a viking should be immune to kawaii, but not getting exposed to that level of adorableness in the past just made me all the more disadvantaged.**

 **Canada called me onii-chan, just like that.**

 **I spent years trying to get Iceland to call me onii-chan. I'm not quite sure what his reasoning was, but he would always refuse. He still does.**

 **Canada called me onii-chan. Canada hugged me.**

 **The Nordics didn't particularly like to be all that touchy-feely, at least not back then. Iceland never gave me more than a smile, in fact, I can't actually remember the last time I saw him smile.**

 **Canada called me onii-chan. Canada hugged me. Canada had the most adorable smile ever (because Iceland hasn't smiled at me for so long that I've forgotten how he had looked like with that twinkle in his eyes and the quirk of his upturned lips)**

 **Usually, I would've tensed when I was hugged. But I didn't, not when Canada did it. I had been more shocked than uncomfortable, or maybe surprised would be a better way to say it.**

 **Canada had called me onii-chan, and I like it.**

 **It didn't occur to me at any point in those days that Canada might not have chosen that particular word completely by coincidence. After all, I'm quite sure that Vena knew exactly what he was doing when he called me anko.**

 **I don't particularly care, though.**

 **Canada called me onii-chan.**

 **And I liked it.**

 **He also happened to have the cutest bambi eyes.**

* * *

 **Canada eyed the magic books set beside us on the bed.**

 **"You like them?" I asked. It was sort of a ridiculous question, he hadn't even gotten the chance to go past the front cover yet.**

 **He nodded. "I can't tell what it says though… what language is that?" he asked curiously.**

 **I smiled at him and picked up the topmost volume. "Well, it's in Norwegian, I honestly don't know that much about British sorcery."**

 **"Oh," he said, and his smile dilated a bit, as if he was a disappointed. I wondered what I did wrong, and almost asked him, when he said, "Um, I don't know Norwegian."**

 **I thought that was it. I wasn't but I didn't know that…**

 **I patted his head like I usually did with Iceland. "Yes, I know that, Canada. There's a way to translate this using magic that I was going to show you so we can change it to English."**

 **Canada's eyes lit up happily again before he drooped back down once more.**

 **"I can't read English either," he mumbled. I blinked. As a Nordic, I'm not the right person to judge, but Canada sounded like he was speaking perfect English.**

 **He blushed and looked down. "I… I'm still learning. But it's hard. I… I can do Italian," he hesitated. "…Or French."**

 **It wasn't completely odd, I supposed. Actually, it made sense. Canada had been raised by France (or so I gathered) and of course Vena would've wanted to teach him Italian before anything else.**

 **After a slight pause, I allowed a small smile. "That's okay, Canada, we can use Italian," I told him, sensing that he was somehow uncomfortable with the idea of doing it in French, "I, um, don't know Italian though."**

 **He brightened up immediately. "It's okay! I can teach you Italian while you teach me magic!"**

 **Canada had this talent of making me stop and just stare at him in a state of less dramatic shock, or perhaps simply surprise.**

 **Canada's smile faltered slightly when I didn't respond so I quickly gave him a reassuring nod. "That sounds nice, Canada."**

 **Delighted, Canada watched eagerly as I hovered my hand over the book and began the spell.**

 **Something went wrong.**

* * *

 **Don't use magic, Vena had told me.**

 **Teach him, but don't use magic, Vena had told me.**

 **Be patient with him, and don't use magic, Vena had told me.**

 **It appears…**

 **I didn't listen.**

* * *

 **I'm pretty sure I could hear Canada yelling, or screaming, or crying, I couldn't quite tell.**

 **Or maybe it was me. Maybe I was the one yelling or screaming or crying, but I don't think so. Not to say it didn't hurt, it did, but maybe I didn't want to alarm Canada any more than he already was. Don't show too much weakness, that had been my policy on dealing with Iceland, perhaps I was using it right then.**

 **When the world stopped going black, it was probably because Vena was there now, feeding me water again. Or, at least, the liquid that I had once thought was water but really wasn't.**

 **I blinked my eyes and managed to cough a little. Vena moved the cup away for about a second, then Canada slammed into me crying, "Onii-chan! You're okay!"**

 **It took me another second to collect my bearings and fully register everything, then I hugged the adorable thing back, and I really didn't feel like letting go.**

 **Especially when I felt Vena put his hand on my shoulder and say softly, "Now, what did I say about using magic?"**


	3. Chapter 3

**Hey there! Man, I hope I'm not spouting some random crap every time I post… on a side note, guys, is anyone here a fan of Ouran High School Host Club or Kamisama Hajimemashita (Kamisama Kiss)?**

* * *

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia - Axis Powers**

* * *

My first warning.

How many warnings I would get before punishment, I didn't know. I had never gotten a warning before. Sweden and Denmark… they just skipped straight to the punishment.

It was valid though, this first warning. My own fault for using magic, it taxed my body too much, gave me another attack like Vena predicted.

As inferred above, I wasn't punished, not yet. It was still only my first warning. The look on Vene's face, though, the rather stoic, intensely disappointed expression boring into me and making me feel incredibly guilty.

The next time Canada saw me, the next day, when we were meant to pick up from where we had left off in our left off in our classes before I had nearly fainted, he came in with a somehow ashamed quaver on his lip, as if it were his fault I hadn't listened to Vene.

What did I do? I ruffled his hair and called him little brother. And that made him about a thousand times happier.

* * *

"That's it, don't worry, you'll get it," I told Canada soothingly, shooing him away from the second chair he had just exploded.

Norwegian magic is admittedly harder to grasp than British sorcery. There are no specific words to a spell, no particular hand movement, no fancy sticks to channel your magic with. You must be able to find your magical core within you, and let it flow smoothly through you. You must be able to feel the magic at your fingertips, control it, command it, and project it out the way you want it to. It'll be immensely hard to begin with, but once you get the hang of it the possibilities are endless. There'll be no boundaries to hold you back.

Basically, it took a lot of patience, even just to teach someone else how to do it. I don't know where I got all that patience from, if it had been Iceland, we would've both stormed off to do something else by that point.

Canada had the magical talent, sure, but he honestly had little to no control over it.

Said boy huffed as nothing happened for just about the millionth time. "Agh! I just did it, the wrong thing but I just did it, why won't it work?!"

I just sighed. "Because at this stage your magic is still unpredictable and you've got to be patient."

He only gave me a sceptical pout and jumped into my lap. "I'm hungry!" he declared.

I groaned. "Canada…"

Violet eyes suddenly became even rounder and larger, threatening to spill tears.

"Canada… I don't know where the kitchen or dining room is…"

"Please?"

Damned bambi eyes.

Canada managed to get me all the way to my bedroom door before I stopped us both.

"Canada…" I stammered, staring out into the hallway. It was painted a pale blue, with framed paintings hung up randomly here and there, all scenery, no figures. "I…"

Somehow, I hadn't thought about what the rest of the house looked like, and I hadn't seen properly outside my room for ages. "I… don't know if I'm allowed to leave my room."

He gave me a confused frown. "Well of course you are, why wouldn't you?"

I didn't know how to explain, but decided I'll just go along with it. Vena couldn't get mad if he technically never told me no, right?

Right?

* * *

Vargas Manor, Canada called this.

So all this time… all these days of lying alone in my room, almost dying of boredom on one or two fleeting occasions, I was in a manor.

Manor, manor I didn't know what it meant. So Canada explained it to me. A mansion, a large house. So large that we got terribly lost, despite a certain young boy claiming he knew the way.

* * *

When it happened, I hadn't been paying attention. We were walking through a hallway with loads of fragile-looking displays, and Canada tripped. Simple as that.

"Onii-chan!" he screamed as he fell down the stairs.

Time slowed down.

What I should've done, was run down and grab him, and risk maybe having another mild attack, but it was only a few steps if I did, so I should've been okay.

Instead, I thrust out my arm and willed him to stop falling. Using magic.

I wasn't being lazy. I wasn't being impertinent. It was just instinct.

My magical core was full to the brim. It always was. When I tried to command it, it all exploded through me. Like it usually did, actually. The change was how much I couldn't control it, that took energy, a lot of energy, a crazy amount that I didn't have, much more than was usually needed.

I fell to my knees and clutched at my chest, fighting against the unconsciousness.

"Onii-chan!" I vaguely heard Canada yelling. I think he hugged me again, but I wasn't sure.

It felt like two hooks had latched on to my heart and were trying to pull it out. It hurt that much, far far worse than the first time I had tried to run and gotten a seizure. It hurt more than the last time I attempted magic, I felt like I was being torn apart from the inside.

Black spots obscured my vision. I couldn't quite think anymore. It hurt, hurt, hurt.

My breath became laboured, but I tried my best to get enough air. I needed air. Air was good.

This time, I rather succeeded. I didn't black out straight away, the world was closer, albeit terribly blurry.

I smiled faintly at Canada, who appeared to have been saved by my careless spell after all. "I'm fine, Canada."

He sniffled and hugged me some more.

"You got lost, didn't you?" I heard a petite voice ask from behind us. More solemn than usual, not as sunshine and cheery as I was used to.

Canada pulled away from me and grinned like he hadn't a care in the world. "Gee, hey there, Bianca!" he greeted enthusiastically, "You wouldn't happen to have any food on you, would `cha?"

I blinked at his sudden attitude change. Just a few moments ago he seemed close to tears and now…

I turned around to face her too. Bianca was pretty much the same size as Canada, despite being at least a year or two older than him. They were quite a contrast together, her with her long silky black hair and olive shaded skin, him with his rounded honey-blonde hair and pale complexion.

She raised an eyebrow at his question and took out a sugar-covered bagel from the pocket of the white baking apron she always seemed to wear. Canada grabbed it eagerly, earning an eye roll from the youngest Italy. He in response stuck out his tongue at her and began munching on it.

I hadn't ever seen how the two interacted with each other. I was a bit funny, like they were siblings bantering with each other.

Bianca turned her attention to me. "Well, you two were looking for the dining room, right? I'll take you there."

I nodded, glad that the pain from using magic had subsided somewhat. Bianca did seem a bit less upbeat than I deemed normal, but I couldn't tell if it was somehow because of Canada or for other reasons.

The dining room didn't seem all that far away, but if you asked me to get back to my room from there that day all by myself I wouldn't have been able to do it.

Romano and Veneziano were there when I walked in. Romano basically ignored me, but I could practically feel Vene's golden eyes boring into me once more.

"I was about to call you for lunch, you know," she directed at Canada. "Would you like to join us, Norway?"

Canada stopped nibbling his bagel and pouted. "But we were just in the middle of class when—"

"It's fish & chips," Vena interrupted with a knowing smirk. Canada flashed into his seat immediately.

This confused me, really, and I had no idea what fish & chips were meant to be, but I went along with it anyway. I still wasn't sure if I had a choice.

I took the only empty seat and listened to them talk. At first, it was mostly just Canada and Bianca going on about the fun they had been having in the garden that day… then they somehow ended up having a grand debate on frozen yoghurt vs gelato.

Romano and Vena mostly watched them amusedly, as a couple would watch their own children bicker playfully. Sometimes, Romano would lean over and whisper to Vene, who would either respond with a small nod or a deadpanned stare.

When we finally stood up to go back to my room and continue class, Vena caught my eye and slowly held up two fingers.

Second warning.

* * *

Canada idolized England. It took me two weeks to find that out.

In that two weeks, Canada learned how to summon snowclouds and make frost. It was all a matter of figuring out his affinity, even if we had a bit of trouble getting rid of his icy creations. We bonded quite a bit.

I guess I must've been healing, because I could walk around without having any fear of getting an attack anymore. The two of us liked to stroll around and just talk. It was usually either him chatting hyperly and me listening, or he would sometimes demand me to tell him some Norwegian folk tales.

Canada liked to bring me to have tea in the garden, that is to say one of the Vargas Manor's many gardens. He always did it the proper British way, with different-flavoured crumpets and all.

Somewhere along the line, Canada had decided that England was a better guardian than France anyday. Coupled with the fact that the United Kingdoms had one of the strongest magical communities in the world, and how much his little brother USA seemed to love being a British colony back when they still got to play together all the time, when he was still a French colony himself, he was now a very firm supporter of 'Angleterre'. (The kid was also still trying to get rid of his slight French accent)

That and the fact that he absolutely loved British food. Even if he wouldn't touch a scone for as long as I knew him.


	4. Chapter 4

**I have used a song by Paola Bennet in this chapter. It's a short, sweet lullaby that I'd gotten stuck in my head some time ago, and memorized. This song was sung in honor of a character (Nico) from a different fandom, so I don't believe it's copyrighted. The song is called 'Soldatino'. I've replaced his name in the song so that our characters can use it, as well as taking away one stanza. I recommend you listen to the song while you read this first part, you can find it on YouTube.**

* * *

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia - Axis Powers**

* * *

My ears pricked up at the melodious sounds floating through the living room.

I had been reading. An Italian fiction, if you want to know. My understanding was still rather sketchy, but there was no arguing against Canada being a good teacher.

Anyway, I looked up to see Romano sitting at the grand piano and playing an elaborate tune. I hadn't heard anything much like that before, we didn't have that type of music back in Northern Europe.

After another minute or so, Canada got up from doing his 'homework' (not from me! I would never give anyone homework) and came over to the couch to lie on Vene's lap. I have to admit that a tinge of jealousy sparked through me at that.

Vena began stroking his hair. It was honestly only then that I noticed the long twisty curl Canada had on his right. Of course, it wasn't floating like mine, I was yet to meet anyone whose was.

Romano kept playing. His fingers flew across the keys, stroking smoothly, creating a soft gentle tune which made my eyes drooped.

As the music slowed to light, petite sounds, I put down my book and let my attention be captured.

He paused for a second, then Bianca closed her eyes and began to sing.

 _Close your eyes,_

 _I know what you see._

 _The darkness is high,_

 _And you're in ten feet deep._

 _But we've survived,_

 _More terrible monsters than sleep._

 _And you know I, will be here, to tell you, to breathe._

Romano wasn't exactly the loud, rambunctious type, and Bianca had always seemed the more obedient, delicate type, but I hadn't yet seen them conduct such a serene act, with such perfect synchrony.

 _Tu sei il mio, soldatino._

 _La ragione per cui vivo._

 _Non ti scordar di me._

 _Io veglierò su di te_

I couldn't quite grasp what she said, actually, even though the Italian was slow and smooth, but it sounded beautiful anyway.

 _Stumbling lost,_

 _The last choice of all that you meet._

 _It's the cost,_

 _Of ruling those `neath your feet._

 _Paths you've crossed,_

 _And trust you're trying to keep._

 _You're exhausted,_

 _Listening for a voice that won't speak._

 _Bambino, mio caro._

I was closing my eyes then. Their music felt really pretty, if that's possible.

 _Tu sei il mio, soldatino._

 _La ragione per cui vivo._

 _Non ti scordar di me._

 _Io veglierò su di te._

As Romano played the last few notes, I opened my eyes and noticed both Canada and somehow Bianca sleeping soundly.

"That was beautiful," I said softly.

Vena nodded. "Of course it was. Bianca and Romano create the art and culture of our country, I only symbolize the power and influence that we have. That's why they can play, they can sing, they can paint, cook, draw, dance, write, I will only ever be second best to them."

"You're too modest, Vene," said Romano, shaking his head, "You know very well that you can do all that almost as well as we can. And you handle all our politics and trade, and the health and safety of our people."

He waved it off. "Anyone can do things like that, Romano."

"Not as well as you," I blurted out.

Both of them turned to me with wide eyes, as if they had forgotten I was there.

Vena stared at me for a while before actually stuttering, "T-thank you, Norway."

Romano turned back to him and smirked.

I'm honestly not sure why I said that. I didn't know, I didn't know how well he had been taking care of his land, I hadn't seen how he had been dealing with any problems that hit them.

Maybe I was reflecting what my people were feeling. While I was there, slowly healing, teaching Canada, someone had to be taking care of my country's affairs, and it had to be Vena then. My boundaries were closed off to Denmark and Sweden, anyway, and my people like the things Vena had done for them.

Vena looked down at Canada. "You should go to sleep too, Norway, it's quite late."

Romano started up a new song on the piano, so I didn't protest.

* * *

The next morning, I stupidly decided to try and get to the dining room by myself for breakfast. You can easily guess that I got lost.

I decided a long time ago that the Vargas Manor was far too big for a total of only five people living in it. There were at least fifty rooms, at least five floors, and over nine acres of garden space.

And that was only as far as I had actually been to.

Canada had never learned how to properly navigate around the manor, only the Italies seemed to be able to. And they had the tendency to show up for directions at the most bizarre of times.

Currently, I was wandering though a dark green corridor, the first dark-walled area I had seen there so far.

After a while, I began to hear noises, the kind of noises one would hear when any of us were doing our training, but this was more systematic.

My first thought was Canada. Every morning, before our lessons, he would do training of some sort with Vena and Romano, then shower and come bounding to my room out of breath. He never dis tell me exactly what training was like, and I never really asked.

But I did want to know. I did want to know what Canada was learning, outside of our rather casual lessons. So I followed.

There was one room where the sounds were coming from. Two large wooden doors, I only pushed one open a crack.

It wasn't Canada. Canada wasn't the one training there, Vena was.

He was wearing bright silver, that was actually silver and not possibly iron or steel either, because it was also cloth. The silver allowed the light of the fire to glance off him and kaleidoscope around the room.

Fire. I wasn't sure whether the fire trailing from both ends of his staff was conjured or simply lit, but the main shock was probably because I was quite sure as I watched that the fire constantly grazed him, but it never even left a mark.

He was doing one of those fighting routines, with kicking and flips and controlled swings with his staff. The floor shifted beneath him, moving with his feet. Responding to his will.

An elementalist at best, he had told me.

Fire is one of the hardest elements to master. It's very well-favoured, but barely anyone used it. Fire is quick, wild, alive. It is very difficult to reign in and control, and destroys easily.

No one could really control the earth. As far as I knew, because most of the earth was really living, breathing, literally. And none of the countries had yet ever had the ability to create immediate geographical distortion on their land.

Vena moved fast. His movements sometimes became a blur or a flurry. But structured, and he never faltered. Constantly moving, trailing an arc of blazing fire behind him, it was fascinating while rather terrifying.

Wind. There was wind too, sweeping past his hair and tugging the fire, pulling up debris. He was controlling that as well.

I slowly backed out and closed the door. Vena was powerful, that I knew. I just didn't know how powerful. I had a feeling I still didn't know.

The orderly sounds of him training continued behind the closed door.

My head kept spinning. I kept thinking, Vena never told me that, Vena never told me that. It's not like he was really all that likely to tell me, but I had been there for some time already.

I only made me wonder what other secrets he was keeping.

* * *

The window clearly showed that it was before sunrise. One would usually wonder what the eldest Italy was doing up that early when the rest of the house, excepting Vena of course, was sound asleep.

I didn't question it, though. I only seemed natural somehow. Just like, the more I thought about it, how natural it was for Vena to have as much power as I had seen. Or more.

Romano put the cup of hot chocolate in front of me. It was emphasized many times before there, none of us were allowed to drink coffee, lest we become addicted, Romano and Vena included. That didn't matter to me. I never did like the taste of coffee all that much, and the chocolate kept me awake just as well.

He watched me as I wrapped my hands around the warm mug drink and took a sip. I wondered what he might be thinking, maybe that it was a miracle I had actually managed to get to the kitchen on my own. Maybe why I looked more shaken than usual. It was times like this that I began to feel very self-conscious of my apparent expressiveness.

After the second sip, he finally broke the silence. "So… you've seen it."

I nodded, not even pausing to think he might be talking about something different. I didn't know whether they had some sort of mind-reading powers, or already knew me that well, or something like that. But he definitely knew. It was a trait the Italies all seemed to share, somehow knowing everything, and always in control.

Romano studied me. "Intimidating, isn't he?"

Maybe, maybe with this new information, maybe I should've felt panicked in a way. I felt as if I should've felt panicked. This was the person I was taking orders from, whom I was now pretty sure was powerful enough to snap Denmark's neck child's play. So maybe I should've felt panicked, but I wasn't. Not really.

"Yes," I said softly, "I still don't know how he does that."

He smiled. "That's why we call him the heir of Rome. He's got a lot of power, capable of taking down an entire legion. That's why I'm the eldest, but he's the leader."

There was always something different about Romano. Of course he had that same manner of complete control, but there was something else. He had an air of neutrality, much more relaxed without the guarded look that was always faintly noticeable.

But Romano was always stable. You could mostly tell what he was thinking on the surface, and expect him to be cam at all times. That was the kind of big brother I had wanted Denmark to be when I was younger and under his care, only thing was, I had never seen Romano giving orders before.

"Do you fear him?" I asked cautiously.

He looked a little taken aback, before relaxing again. A nostalgic smile crossed his face. "Norway… he's my little brother. Now, he's in charge of Canada, I've got no jurisdiction over that, but I still technically overrule him when it comes to traditional hierarchy."

He paused for a moment. "Vene's always been better at that, politics, being the leader. But he hasn't yet learned to be a good older brother yet," he added amusedly, "I'm honestly amazed that Canada took to him so quickly, Bianca so suddenly. It's a gift of his, Norway, he always gets what he wants. Manipulation, he's good at that."

He suddenly broke off. "Do you fear him, Norway?"

I couldn't answer that. Mostly because I wasn't very sure myself.

Seeing my lack of response, Romano spoke on, "I don't think I do, Norway. He does intimidate me a bit, make me feel a bit more self-conscious next to him on a battlefield. I do step aside for him a lot, but I don't fear him, no."

A troubled look replaced his thoughtful one. "When he's angry, though, that's something you have to watch out for. He isn't very nice when he's angry."

Romano just let me sit and ponder that for a moment.

"Come on," he said, standing up. "I'll teach you how to cook."

I blinked. "Cook?"

"You're a bit of an early riser, he said with a chuckle, "Any more of these silent-morning trips won't do you much good if you can't cook, there aren't many ready-made edibles hanging around here, unless you count maple syrup."

He watched me expectantly. I looked down at my cup and decided that my hot chocolate had gone cold anyway.

Romano was like a blanket. He felt safe.

Kind of like a professional older brother.

* * *

 **Please review and let me know what you think!**


	5. Chapter 5

**Just to let you know, I do plan for Norway to go back to Scandinavia eventually. He has to, and he'll also come back. If I get that far...**

* * *

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia - Axis Powers**

* * *

My lessons with Canada were getting shorter and shorter. The classes that we used to spend up to five hours on were now whittling down to almost thirty minutes a day. He had more training now, after getting used to me teaching him. Magic apparently did not take as much priority as I thought.

With more time to myself than usual, as well as way more freedom than ever, I started wandering around the manor, slowly learning the layout of it, but taking care not to stray back into the dark green corridor again. It still made me feel uneasy.

My Italian was getting better, a lot better. Words seemed to jump out from the shelves, fancy phrases that were once meaningless to me were suddenly exceptionally intriguing. I kept darting around the library, picking up things that ranged from romance novels and mystery books to encyclopedias and history tomes. Although, it was particularly riveting to look at the history books. It's like reading a country's biography, or diary, which made it all the more amazing that Vena had such a wide selection of them.

I spent some time more talking to Bianca. She was much more down-to-earth than Canada, sure, but she was also more protected. She hadn't been through the hardships of war like the rest of us, and that made her very self-conscious. It was visible in her stance, the way she talked and kept checking to see if I was still listening to her all the time.

I still got to spend time with Canada, don't get me wrong, just less. He was usually disappointed at the end of each lesson when he had to go back training, but we still had plenty of fun. He could make the snow and ice go away when he was done with it now, something that satisfied him greatly (also, it saved the rest of us from having to clean up too much).

And now, every early morning, I would head down to the kitchen where Romano would give me hot chocolate and teach me to cook something. Sometimes we would talk, just small, quiet conversations that always made me feel safe.

So I wasn't lonely, not really. Far from it, actually. There was always something to do in the Vargas Manor, and always someone around to keep one company.

I certainly felt more at home there than I had ever felt back in Scandinavia.

Maybe it was because they acted more like a real family should be.

* * *

"Canada, time for training," Vene's voice came.

We both looked up as he opened the door. "Come on, wrap it up."

I nodded and took the book away from Canada, expecting our usual routine, but today seemed to be the day to break the cycle, as Canada smiled up adoringly at Vena and pleaded, "Can onii-chan come too? Pleaaaaaaase?"

Vena hesitated. Canada had tried this a few times with Romano, who was the one who usually came to collect him, but his only reward would be an amused smile and a firm shake of the head.

However, the leader of the Vargas household appeared to be easier to soften up than his brother, as he reluctantly nodded to the question.

Canada's eyes lit up, an incredibly joyful grin spread across his face. The child grabbed my hand and began leading me out excitedly.

I slowed my pace a bit when we reached the dark green corridor. It shouldn't have come as a surprise to me that this was where Canada had his training, but I still felt hesitant to enter this place again.

We didn't go into that same training room, of course. Vena brought us to one that was much bigger, large enough to accommodate and entire stadium. There were several rows of seats going around the pristine training grounds.

Vena pointed up at the stairs going up to the seats. "Sit anywhere," he told me, avoiding my gaze. That was strange, I wasn't used to such behaviour from him, but I didn't question it.

By the time I had ascended to one of the front seats, Canada was running along the racetrack with amazing speed. Within a few minutes he had gone eight, nine, ten rounds.

"You train him hard," I noted quietly.

From below, Vena turned and looked back up at me, as if he had heard me from so far away.

I couldn't quite read his expression.

After running, the grounds changed to spongy floors and hurdles. I watched as he jumped, swung, and flipped himself through them and back again. Then there was a rope, all they way to the ceiling, that Canada had to climb. And he did it, thirty metres, in less than twenty minutes without falling.

When he was done with that, Vena glanced back at me and walked into the field.

The grounds changed again. This time, it was all concrete with many systematic white circles painted on the ground. Canada was obviously much less at ease in this setting, and awkwardly avoided stepping too near the circles as he went over to his trainer. Vena handed him something. I winced as he struggled to hold it steady.

The light caught the edge, and I froze.

It was a sword. Nearly half his height, shining silver, slightly curved. There were intricate designs carved into the handle, as far as I could see, and the blade seemed to glow.

Canada was only seven…

I started going out on raids with my people when I was very young. Being a relatively new country, and a northern at that that, I was relatively good at fighting.

But I was one of the very few that used a sword. A sword had to be wielded with one hand only in order to be effective, an incredibly difficult task considering the weight of such a weapon. Even for me, it was nearly impossible to properly use in battle until I was at least nine. Go ahead and laugh, I'm a viking country, remember?

I used to think that Canada wouldn't ever be able to fight offensively, that he'll be in super big trouble if he ever had to go into battle again. I suppose that was mean of me, but Canada's just the kind of kid that couldn't hurt a fly.

Now, watching him swing the sword around and stab viscously (if not a little clumsily) at the practice bags, I wondered whether he may be less innocent than he seemed. Far less innocent than he seemed.

Anyone who saw Iceland as a child would know that appearances can be deceiving.

* * *

"What do you think?" Canada asked later.

I looked down at him. "Of what?"

"My training," he answered. "Does it look like I'll survive if anyone ever attacks me again?"

* * *

Three strikes and you're out, as the Americans say.

The third time I used magic, it was to stop _myself_ from falling down the stairs. And I must've been a lot weaker than I thought, it did nothing. Okay, it did make me practically break from the inside and quite possibly tear my magical core open, but the point is that it didn't stop me from tumbling down the steps and landing on my arm so badly— I began to cry.

Vena was there in a flash, as he always did. He hugged me to his chest and gently stroked my hair. I cradled my broken arm against him as he whispered comfortingly, "It's alright… it's alright…" over and over again.

I trembled, blinking back tears that refused to stop flowing. When did I get so weak? Surely… surely this couldn't have been the first time I had broken something?

"Be strong, Norway," he soothed me. "Don't cry."

It was only ever at time like this that Vena spoke softly. There was no obvious sympathy in his voice, but I still like to think he cared.

When I began to relax, my sobs subsiding, Vena then moved one hand under me to pick me up. I winced as my arm twisted a bit and stung uncomfortably.

He held me bridal style and strolled down the corridor as if I weigh nothing. My sight was still blurry from tears, but I couldn't unpin either of my arms to wipe my vision clear. We passed Romano, who stopped and narrowed his eyes, though I'm not entirely sure why.

I probably would've recognized my room, even in my disorientated state, only Vena was less careful going through the doorway and the frame wacked my injured arm.

I cried out again. Vena cursed and the next thing I knew, he had very nearly tossed me back on my bed and I was blacking out.

"No lessons today, Norge, just rest," he whispered, pulling the blanket up and over me before walking away.

I let my eyes close and lost consciousness as he left the room, locking the door behind him with a click.

So yeah, that's the background of what happened. Now, the end result was that I was, in a word, grounded. Not allowed to leave my room, or talk to anyone else for a week straight.

When I first woke, it was a similar feeling to that first night here at Vargas Manor so many days ago. I felt lost, alone, and everything was eerily quiet.

I tried to move, but immediately a searing pain shot up my arm and past events came crashing back onto me. If Vena hadn't walked in at that exact moment, I definitely would've freaked out more.

"Vene," I mumbled through tears. I hated how weak and helpless I felt, the pain wasn't even that bad and I couldn't even keep from crying.

"Shh," he whispered, coming over to me. "Don't move, you'll only make it worse."

It was hard to stay still, but the pain hurt like hell so I somehow managed. Vena sat down next to me and gripped my wrist. I nearly screamed, my body felt like it was being torn apart all over again.

Vena leaned over and stroked my hair. I gasped, practically drowning in agony.

"That's right, Norway, keep it in," he whispered, leaning down next to my ear. I let out a kiss at the torture my broken arm was being put through, it was nearly impossible to stay quiet.

I bit my lip so hard I was afraid it might bleed. My arm felt like it was on fire – my whole body felt like it was on fire.

Vena kept stroking me. His hand slipped down to my cheeks and gently eased my eyes open.

His warm golden eyes bore into mine. I felt, I could see that there was genuine concern in his eyes. I forced my hiccup breathing to subside as he brushed away my tears.

He slowly calmed me, holding a finger to his mouth to tell me to be silent. I took a shaky breath, my other hand gripping the sheets tightly. Vena held up two fingers, igniting a red spark between them. "This is going to hurt, Norway."

I closed my eyes, so I didn't see what he did. But my arm went cold, really cold, so that it almost hurt more than before. Burning cold, if that makes sense.

Before I knew it, it was everywhere. My form was shaking with the strain. I grit my teeth to keep from crying out. My fists clenched the sheets so hard it tore.

After what seemed like forever, the pain flowed away. It took me a while to realize I could move my arm away at last.

"Is it better now?" he asked. I nodded hastily.

He smiled concernedly, and gave me a quick kiss on the forehead.

"Breakfast," he nodded towards my desk, where a tray with a stack of pancakes and a glass of orange juice lay.

I slowly propped myself up, wondering how long I had been unconscious again. Now that he mentioned it, I was really hungry.

Vena stood, walking briskly toward the door. "By the way," he called over his shoulder. "You're grounded."

* * *

 **Please review.**


End file.
